Familial Legacies
by crankyman7
Summary: When Anna finally learns about the loss of her memory, she turns her resentment against her dead parents. Elsa tries to guide her sister away from bitterness, but her efforts are hindered by her own lack of closure with their parents. Her quest to make peace with their memory leads her to a series of revelations that shed a sinister light on what she thought was a source of hope.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:  
**

This is the first of the two sequels to _The Price of Retribution_ that I have planned. Although it does resolve at least one thread that was left hanging at the end of that fic, it can still more or less stand on its own. So if you choose not to read _The Price of Retribution _first, you probably won't be too confused. Nevertheless, since this fic is part of a wider series, and since, as of the time I am writing this note, it has been several months since I finished serializing its predecessor, I felt I should mention the fact. Either way, I hope you enjoy this.

* * *

**Prologue**

Within her office, Elsa eyed the volumes, seals, and parchments lining the shelves and tables, as well as her own desk. Weary, she leaned back in her chair and blew out a long sigh. She knew she would have to get used to it from now on; being a queen came with a great many responsibilities. She didn't have to enjoy it. But she _did_ have to get used to it. Her first week back on the job had already demonstrated that amply.

The deportation of Hans had been the easy part. Much as she had wanted to drive an icicle through the traitorous prince's heart, she knew that such an action would not only be a gross insult to his family, on whom the task of punishing him rightfully fell, but would also be a violation of her own heart.

_Don't be the monster they fear you are._

It had been a ploy to get into her good graces, she knew; Hans didn't give a farthing what anyone thought of Elsa except insofar as it affected his own goals. Nevertheless, his words had remained with her. As far as she was concerned, his motives didn't change the fact that he had been right.

_Not succumbing to revenge- _that_ was the hard part._

It wasn't as though she hadn't retaliated at all. She had readily decided to sever trade with Weselton. Duke Rudolph had made his choice, and he had to face the political consequences. True, she had added a childish insult on top of the matter. She supposed she shouldn't have. But then again, it _had_ seemed like a funny idea at the time. And at least it had merely been a matter of words. The duke would live to see another day. Perhaps he would repent, perhaps he would not. At least she had avoided doing anything worse.

_Thank you, God. Thank you, God, for my sister._

She fingered the cross she now wore about her throat as her mind passed over the events of the past two weeks.

_You never gave up on me. Dear Anna, you never gave up on me, even when I did. And you don't even know the whole story yet, about why I kept you in the dark. Not yet. _

Elsa felt her eyes moisten. She tried to hold the tears back for the briefest of moments, before allowing them to fall.

_I'm alone. Its fine-_

"Elsa?"

Elsa jerked. She hadn't heard Anna entering.

"Elsa? Why are you crying?"

Elsa didn't move, neither did she reply. She simply stared blankly at the floor. It took the sound of wood sliding over carpet to distract her. Looking up, she saw that Anna had dragged a chair towards the desk and was no sitting beside her.

"What is it?"

"Anna…"

Elsa's voice trailed off.

_How do I voice what I'm feeling?_

Anna reached out to touch Elsa's hand. Elsa trembled at the touch.

"It's okay. You don't have to be afraid anymore."

_Anna, I love you. But it's not that simple. Fear never is. I know what I have to be now- what I _want_ to be. But it takes time to grow into a role._

Such were Elsa's thoughts. But her words were different.

"But I have hope," she said.

"Then why are you afraid?"

Elsa's hands trembled again. She felt Anna's hand withdrawing and she quickly grasped it. She turned her head, meeting her sister's gaze.

"I lived for thirteen years without hope. When I fled to the North Mountain, I thought I'd found it at last. I was wrong."

She tightened her grip on Anna's hand.

"Living in the mountains without company, trying to flee from all responsibility- these things are irrational. They're the hope of a fool."

"You're not a fool, Elsa."

"Yes I am. Or I was. I was a fool to think that I could survive without human contact. I was a fool to think that living with myself required abandoning the throne. I was a fool to shut you out."

"But you stopped all that. You came back."

"I was brought back. And I was shown what I couldn't bring myself to see- what I was afraid to see. God sent you to show me what hope really is. Real hope is a frightening thing, Anna."

"What are you talking about?" Anna said. "Hope is a wonderful thing. Hope brought me -brought _us_\- this far. And look where it's gotten us." She smiled. "I've got Kristoff, whom I'll marry one day, if he- I mean, uh, him and me, us…you know."

"Decide it's a good idea?"

"Yeah, we're taking it slow. I mean, you can't marry a man you just met."

Elsa closed her eyes and turned away, but she kept hold of Anna's hand.

"Hope brought me to you. And it gave you everything you wanted."

"Not everything. But many things, yes."

"Hope is beautiful, Elsa."

"Yes, it is. And that's why it frightens me."

"I still don't understand."

"Anna."

Elsa's voice was strained. Her eyes were still shut.

"Yes?" Anna said. "I'm here."

"There's something…something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

Again, Elsa saw the ice fly from her fingertips, striking Anna in the forehead. A shudder ran through her body.

"Something…you should know."

She opened her eyes.

"But I don't have the strength to tell you now. When the time is right, I will."

"Sure," Anna replied, her tone kindly. "Whenever you want."

"Thank you."

She let go of Anna's hand. Standing up, she leaned over the desk.

"I have a lot to do," she said, matter of factly.

"I can see that," said Anna. "Who comes up with all these tasks? I mean, yeesh. Some of these stacks are what, fifteen feet tall?"

Elsa chuckled.

"You're exaggerating. And you know the answer already- queenly duties. Life isn't always a fairy tale. I have work to do, running this kingdom."

"I know, I know," Anna said, making a face. "You have to go and be miss hoity-toity now."

"Not perpetually."

"Well, when you're done, let me know." With that, Anna turned towards the door.

"Don't go."

Elsa watched as Anna paused in mid-stride and spun about.

"Yes, your mightiness?"

Elsa gave free rein to her laughter. Then, abruptly, she became solemn once again.

"I _am_ afraid," she said. "You can't make that fear go away instantly, and neither can I. I'll just have to face it down, every day, and chip away at it little by little until it goes away."

"And I'll be there with you, every step of the way," said Anna. "We'll stare down your fear and kick it into the gutter where it belongs."

"Anna, don't overtax yourself," Elsa replied. "For now, it's enough that you're here."

"Right, of course," said Anna. "Any time you want me, I'll be here for you."

She spun about again, nearly tripping as she hurried from the office.

Elsa watcher her depart, a smile on her face. Her hand strayed to her cross once more.

Once again, the tears began to roll down her cheeks.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Hope and Fear**

"Alright, Olaf!" Elsa cried. "Get ready again!"

"Okay!" The snowman grinned broadly, spreading his arms. "Hit me again!"

With alacrity, Elsa aimed her right hand at the ground. Ice burst from her palm and impacted on the ground. Speedily, it spread across the stony surface of the castle courtyard, snaking its way towards Olaf. Almost without thinking, Elsa leaped onto the ice and slid down its length.

"Now grab my leg!" she ordered as she reached its end.

"I would," Olaf replied, "if my middle weren't missing."

Elsa blinked. Panting for breath, she glanced down at Olaf, whose head was resting atop his bottom, and then gazed beyond him, at a large icicle extending upward from the ice. Impaled on its end was Olaf's torso, with his stick-arms jutting out of it, waving frantically.

"Here, let me get that for you," Elsa said. Jumping nimbly from the ice sheet, she walked towards the icicle and pulled the torso from it.

"Oh, would you look at that?" Olaf said, still grinning as he came over to Elsa. "You've impaled me again."

Elsa replaced the snowman's torso. Sighing, she collapsed onto the ground.

Olaf reached out a comforting hand.

"It's okay," he said. "Maybe you can get it right next time."

Elsa gestured across the courtyard, where a dozen similar ice sheets could be glimpsed.

"That's what you said after every one of those."

"I meant it every time."

"I know you did. But I can't wait for every next time. What if it happens again and I'm not fast enough?"

Olaf reached out further, but Elsa brushed his hand aside. She stood up and, with an effort, willed all of the ice sheets to melt. The resulting water began to collect into pools, before seeping down into the cracks between the cobblestones.

"You just need to wait and see," said Olaf. "And hope."

"Hope."

Elsa smiled wanly.

"That's a word that's been on mind for a long time."

And, without pausing to explain herself to the puzzled snowman, she strode away towards the door of the castle's keep.

* * *

Elsa didn't quite suffer from cold the way others did, but she still felt the change in the weather that heralded the onset of winter. It was soothing to her now, relaxing, and she looked forward to it every year. Autumns were shorter in Arendelle than in nations further south, the first snow arriving rather sooner than elsewhere. As the nights grew longer, and the icicles did likewise, she was in her element. A creature born of cold, she relished the lowered temperatures. Only one thing could make her feel the cold of a winter's night to chill her marrow.

_Fear will be your enemy_.

It was almost fourteen years to the day that the tragic accident had occurred. Since then, her life had changed so drastically that even now, just thinking about it was almost overwhelming. She had lost count of the nights she had spent sobbing beside her bed, begging God on both knees to free her from her powers. She had tried to occupy herself with the study of history, of politics, and she had absorbed much in the way of knowledge that she knew a queen ought to have. But even her studies could only ever serve as a temporary distraction. Always, she had to face the reality that she was different, and that she was a danger to those she loved by design. When at last, she had embraced her difference, she had practically done so for its own sake. And even this had failed her; there was no escaping the brutal reality that, without self-control, she really _was_ a danger to others. Her despair had been so great that only a miracle could have pulled her back from the brink.

The miracle had come, and it had come in the form of Anna.

It had stunned her, had overwhelmed her. And in that moment, her thoughts had begun to rearrange themselves and re-form into something more positive. She _could_ exercise self-control. She _could_ master her own powers and use them only for good.

Yet even then, she had been loath to believe it. For the first time in a lifetime of misery, she had tasted the sweetness of hope. And as she had admitted to Anna, it scared her.

"After all these years," she had said to Erich, the Bishop of Arendelle. "After all these years, why do I receive hope only now?"

"Perhaps you were ready only then," Erich had replied. "But who can say? It's beyond my ability to know all that God has planned for you."

"And my powers?" she had answered. "God loves all men, yet he allows me to be born a dangerous perso-"

The bishop had cut her off right there.

"Stop right there, your majesty," he had said. "You are only as dangerous as you allow yourself to be, and so are your powers."

He had then gestured for Elsa to sit down, which she had done.

"I don't know why you were born with ice powers" he had continued. "But I do know that God allows each of us certain skills. It's up to us to use them either for his glory, or for our own. You can control ice and snow. That is an awesome responsibility. Use your powers for the good of others, and perhaps, through God's providence, you will hear the words 'well done, thou good and faithful servant' at the end of days."

She had taken the bishop's words to heart and had striven to live by them ever since. And she had gained no small measure of control over her powers; she no longer feared them as she once had.

That did not mean that she had no cause for worry at all, however. Her trip to Weselton, not five months before, had left her with as many fears as it had resolved. It was true that she now had a quasi-understanding of sorts with the duke; if they were far from friends, they at least were no longer actively at loggerheads. And with trade re-established between the duchy and Arendelle on Elsa's own terms, she could rest assured that Rudolph had no further cause for complaint that didn't involve an inability to cheat Arendelle's merchants.

But fresh fears had risen from the ashes of the old. The first of these was the potential political consequences of the reestablishment of trade with Weselton. For all that the terms had proven very favorable to Arendelle and had required steep concessions from the duke, it remained a possibility that other rulers might see her recanting as a sign that she, Queen Elsa, could be bullied and prodded into changing her mind. As yet, there had been no sign of danger on such a front, but she knew she had to remain alert to the possibility.

The second fear was more immediate, and it concerned a previously unknown bodily condition she had. When she had exposed the scheme of Rudolph's eldest daughter to murder him, the resulting conflict has shown that not only was she hypersensitive to pain, but injuries dulled the speed and precision of her ice formation. It was a crippling weakness, one that had made her realize just how blessed she had been not to have suffered any such injuries before- not least during her fight with the duke's bodyguards the previous year. She knew now that she hated physical pain. And she knew, too, that when combined with emotional pain, it could make her lose her cool in combat.

Again and again, she had practiced with Olaf, repeating the maneuver that had almost caused her to lose her fight with Kirstine. And again and again, she had come no nearer to being confident that she could be in the same situation again, and succeed.

"It's an obsession, your majesty," Kai had told her. "You need to stop it. If the time comes, you can decide what to do then."

She knew he was right, but she couldn't help herself. Always, the same fear gnawed at her mind:

_What if Anna's life depends on my fighting skills, and I fail again?_

And lastly, there had been the duke's revelation to her: that his wife had bartered with a powerful being she would not name for the power of fire. She had failed to master it and had killed herself by accident.

As Elsa reached the door of the keep, the duke's words returned to her:

"I fear there is someone out there who peddles magic powers on a whim, not caring for the safety of others."

She had poured over every book of beasts, every scrap of information on magic she could find, and she had turned up nothing. She could not share her fear; she had sworn not to reveal what the duke had told her. But the knowledge that such a being roamed the earth was worrying in itself. She had no idea if it was benevolent or not; Rudolph was a man prone to imagining the worst, and had automatically concluded that he, she, or it -which, he couldn't say- was evil. But if it was-

_No_. Elsa grasped the handle of the door and gave it a push. _Don't think of it._

Entering the keep, she shut the door behind her, and then hurried down the richly carpeted hallway to her left. Up the stairs she went, allowing her hand to trace across the polished, ivory-gilt banister. Through another hallway strewn with maroon rugs she passed, until she reached the door at the end of the hall. She passed through it, into her study, and closed it after her entrance.

The room was as it always was- her desk on the left side of the room, a window against the fear wall. The volumes remained on the bookshelves, the scrolls on her desk. And on the wall opposite the window, there hung the portrait of her father in full regalia.

Slowly, she strode over to the portrait. It hung in shadow, unlit by the candles that illuminated the rest of the room. Yet it remained visible, staring down at her with its stern, but not uncaring, glance. The contrast was almost a metaphor for her mixed feelings about the man who had inadvertently caused her so much suffering, but who had done so out of a genuine sense of love.

Yes, it had been genuine. She had tried to imagine otherwise, but she could not bring herself to forget the look of very real pain that had filled King Adgar's features when she had refused to so much as touch him.

"I didn't want to hurt you," she said, voicing her thoughts aloud. "Even now, I don't want to. But there are still times when I think I hate you. And at the same time…I want to embrace you. But I can't- you're a corpse in the grave, with a soul awaiting God's judgment. I can't yell at a decomposed body, and I can't embrace it either."

Elsa began to turn, and then stopped. She glanced quickly at the face in the painting. It remained as it always had been- a blend of intensity and warmth. She reached out and felt the portrait's dry surface.

Shaking her head, Elsa turned away and strode towards a chair by the window. She collapsed into it, her weariness after her exertions finally overcoming her. She eyed the portrait once again. It was still the same.

Yet, try as she might, she could not shake the feeling that, out of the corner of her eye, she had seen tears rolling down the dead king's face.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Dream**

There were days -most days, to be precise- when Princess Anna was nothing short of joyful and exuberant. On those days, she felt as though she were the most blessed person in the world. She had the love of Arendelle's populace, a castle full of things she enjoyed, and a good friend who, she hoped, might one day become more than just a friend, officially speaking. What's more, she had a family again; for all the ups and downs of the past year and a half, the bond she had forged with Elsa had held firm. On those days, the mere knowledge of this might be enough to make her smile. If she was in an especially good mood, she might even grin triumphantly- perhaps slide down the balustrade like a giddy little girl. She supposed she might be overdoing it, but there was no denying that she really _was_ that happy.

And then there were days when she felt a gnawing emptiness in a corner of her mind, as though she were forgetting something. Something important, but distant- a puff on the wind that was there and gone. On those days, she would take to the library, devouring books in an effort to distract herself. But the romances she had once considered her bread and butter no longer held the same attraction for her that they once had; whenever she read them now, they were little more than time-filler, a desperate attempt to stave off nagging feeling that something was…missing.

As far back as Anna could recall, she had had the white streak in her hair. She had been born with it, or so she had been told by her parents. She had taken to it fondly, had considered it a badge of uniqueness. And yet, it was gone now, a casualty of the thawing of her heart.

Which is precisely why she had since become more curious about it.

She remembered the dream she had once had not long after her sixth birthday. She had been playing in the snow with Elsa when, predictably, a snowball fight had broken out. She had then suddenly found herself unconscious, without any explanation at all. After some hours she had woken up within the dream to the pressure of lips on her forehead. A troll had been bending over her.

"She'll be just fine," the troll had been saying as it straightened itself. "No harm done…at least that she's done to herself."

She had only just managed to catch a glimpse of the troll. Like Grand Pabbie, the patriarchal figure of Kristoff's adopted family, this troll had sported a green beard and eyebrows. But his voice had been very different somehow, and not just in the sense that it was even more gravelly. Anna had been unable to place exactly how, but there had been a strong hint of anger behind that voice which she had never once heard from Pabbie. His robes were likewise very different, being a frosty white. And eyes, too, had been unique- a solid, bright green.

He had looked at her again, then. She had known she was safe, but there had been something about the troll's gaze that was…sad? Angry? Bitter? Frustrated? Perhaps it had been all of those things at once. Whatever the case, she had been drawn to his eyes, so much so that they were the last thing Anna remembered seeing before she had woken up.

_After_, she had woken up, the next thing she remembered was being in her own bed, with her father and mother sitting on chairs to her left. The questions had come instantly: what had happened? What was she doing here? Hadn't she been in a snowball fight with her sister?

And then had come the answers, the calm reassurances. She had just been dreaming, they said.

"But it seemed so real," Anna had said.

"Dreams often do," Queen Idun had replied. "But they're not. They're just weird mixtures of things we've seen, or done, or read, or…you know."

"You've read all about trolls in your books, remember?" Adgar had added. "And the snowball fight is something that happened a year ago."

At that moment, Anna had shaken her head, allowing some of her hair to fall in front of her face.

"My…my white streak."

She had pushed the group of hairs in question aside.

"Your lucky streak," Adgar had said, smiling. "Must've been what kept that snowball from hitting you harder."

* * *

Anna tossed aside the book she was holding and glanced about the castle's ornate library at nothing in particular. She blew a frustrated sigh; it was clearly going to be one of those days.

_It shouldn't be a problem. I asked Kristoff about the other time he saw Grand Pabbie remove ice from a girl, and he told me it was some other kid. That should've settled it. But if mom and dad lied about Elsa…_

_ …__Where am I even getting these thoughts? Why haven't I had them before so strongly? And why _now_?_

Her gaze fell upon a hunky looking man with a shock of blonde hair.

"Kristoff!"

She bolted upright- at least, she tried to. She wound up toppling backwards, along with the chair she had been sitting in. As she did so, one of her legs shot into the air, striking short stack of books on the table she had been sitting at and sending the volumes earthwards, onto the ebony-carpeted floor.

His expression unperturbed, and perhaps a little longsuffering, Kristoff stepped away from the pillar he had been leaning against. Arriving beside the flustered princess, he stretched one hand towards her

"Thought I'd find you here," he said as she pulled herself upright on his arm.

"Yeah. You would." Anna's eyes strayed everywhere but at Kristoff. "I was just…um...I was just…"

Spotting the book she had been reading, she snatched it from the table.

"I was just reading one of my favorite books."

"May I see?"

Anna clutched the book protectively to her chest.

"No."

"I want to see."

His tone was calm, steady, reassuring; Anna relented.

"Well, alright," she said. "But no teasing."

Kristoff took the book in his hands.

"_A Bestiary of Arendelle_."

Kristoff read the title in a steady voice.

"Huh."

A cloth bookmark marked one page. Opening the volume to that point, Kristoff read the title at its top:

"_Trolls and their Magical Abilities_."

He glanced up at Anna.

"The dream back in your head again?

Anna nodded.

"Yeah."

Kristoff shook his head.

"I can't tell you anything I didn't already tell you a year ago, when you first told me about it."

"I know. And I know you wouldn't lie to me. But my thoughts, my doubts, are back something fierce."

"It was just a dream. Didn't mean a thing."

"You're probably right. But something in my head, it just seems like it's, you know, gone."

Kristoff arched an eyebrow. He set down the book on the table.

"Gone? You mentioned this once before, I think."

"I don't think about it too much, but it came back to me just now –I mean today- and..."

Anna stopped. Her eyes widened.

"I think there's a connection between the dream and my old lucky streak, and…Elsa?"

Anna shook her head. She blinked.

"Elsa? Where's Elsa?"

"She's in her office- hey, wait? Where're you going?"

Anna had already started to race off when she heard Kristoff's inquiry. She spun about on one heel, holding up both hands.

"Wait here!" she cried. "I've gotta talk to Elsa!"

She spun again and headed straight for the door, almost crashing into Gerda, who was entering the library at that moment.

"Whoops, sorry!" she cried. Not pausing to hear whatever Gerda had said in reply, Anna

dashed away in the direction of the royal office.


End file.
